Over The Edge
by Co-Captains Lilz and Terry
Summary: ...And over again."Jack, you're messing with what you shouldn't.""I'm expected to do that,and we should correspond people's expectations, so, doing what I shouldn't, I'd be doing what I should." A curse to remove, and a curse to bestow. Beware of the sea.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here it is! Our PotC fic! We tried really hard on it, and we hope it's good. So leave a review and tell us what you think. See ya!**

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"_Here, where the world is quiet,_

_Here where all troubles seems_

_Dead winds' and spent waves' riot_

_In doubtful dreams of dreams…"_

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**Over The Edge**

**Chapter 1**

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It's night. Thick dark grey clouds spread over a sky of midnight blue, hiding the stars, announcing the storm coming over. The seaside wind blew strong and cold; cold enough to make the men on the deck chatter their jaws, and close their eyes against the cutting sensation. The waves under them churned violently, attacking the sides of the battered ship, sending it swaying sideways, and knocking the sailors on the floor, as they tried to rearrange the sails and prepare the vessel for the rough night that was to come. For it was quite obvious it would be one, it had been in the orange-purple sky that glowed at seven in the evening, and the sudden change in the wind's direction.

There's an old man with graying hair and a thick white beard, shouting orders at the others. He walks in circles, gravely, wary of more than just the weather. He sends an anxious look towards another man, at the end of the deck. This man has his back turned to him, and leans over a table, gesticulating furiously and mumbling to himself. Just as the old man watched, the other's movements ceased completely. His shoulders tensed. He stopped stock-still. The man turned around, bearing a grin so wicked it put the devil's to shame.

"Gibbs." The man called. He could barely keep his voice from shaking as he answered, nervously.

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Set sails! We now have a destination!"

"Er… Haven't we one afore, Cap'n?" he asked, tugging at his collar. The man opened his mouth to answer, but closed it suddenly. Then opened again, and spoke chidingly.

"We certainly did, Mr. Gibbs, for our former destination was getting to our next destination, which is our current destination, which you should be seeing to reach as about now!"

Mr. Gibbs yelped and scrambled away, resuming his shouting and pulling himself some of the cords in the ship. He glanced at his mumbling captain one last time, and felt a shiver run down his spine. He checked the winds once again. He felt a sudden sense of foreboding. The south-west* wind. The storm bringer.

As he looked up at the cloud-filled sky, he crossed himself three times, and thought resigned, that the calm time was about to end.

And after the calm, always came on the storm.

* * *

She woke up with a start.

She shot upright in the bed, panting heavily. Her chest heaved up and down as she gasped repeatedly for air. She was shaking head to toe, and looked paler than what was humanly possible. Her breath was coming ragged, and she was freezing. She lifted a cold trembling hand to brush her damp hair out of her forehead, letting her palm rest against it for a minute, closing her eyes, trying to calm down. It took a few minutes, but she finally managed to soothe her raging emotions back into the usual ease they normally were.

These dreams would be death of her.

They had started since that fateful day, months ago, since the end of those much cherished twenty four hours that away her most precious memory. She sighed, covering her eyes with her hands. Was it too horrible to think about him this way? As a memory? Was it too wrong to think about him as a part of her glorious past, that was to be for evermore, just that? Was he just that? A fading memory of golden ages long gone, and a broken promise of future never to come?

She felt a sob stuck in her throat, but she held it back determinedly. She was long past the stage of crying, she was long over sadness. Now, the only thing left was an everlasting agony, caused by an ever-present sense of longing. It was ironic, really, that she was the one with his heart on a safe, for she often felt like the one with a hole in her chest.

Her hand flew to the key dangling from her neck, the one she guarded with her life. She pulled it, ignoring the sharp pain in her nape when the string ripped in two and dropped the little metallic piece on her lap. The darkened silver looked decidedly off against the pristine white sheets. It looked scary, and tainted. The dark metal shimmered in the moonlight with a glow that was almost… Evil. She contemplated for a second, had she looked at it more closely, would she have seen the stains of the blood that was spilled over the chest that little old key guarded?

She picked it up and it weighted a ton. The burden of years of suffering and agonizing wait, wretched mark of those who are cursed to stay behind, represented by a damned little key, crushed down on her, and the maledicted object slipped right through her fingers, falling with a clatter to the hardwood floor. The noise reverberated through the somber chamber, like the sound of two swords clashing.

Swords. Like the twin blades stuck on the sand of the beach outside her window. Two old swords, turned rusty by the salty air of the sea, nailed on the ground, like a scar in the surface of the earth. A reminder of happier times, and the materialization of a promise that would take way too many years to come true, and miserable twenty four hours to fall apart.

The soft sound of shuffling of feet on the hallway reached her ears, and she forced herself to pick up the cursed key from the floor and throw it hastily on the drawer of her bedside table, slamming it shut. She jumped back on the bed, burying herself deeper in the sheets. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was asleep. About half a minute later, there was a timid knock on the door, and it opened slowly to admit a little boy in.

She blinked, faking the sudden wakeup, and sat up calmly, looking at the new occupant of the room. It always startled her how much he looked like herself. One would believe he was hers entirely. He had her features, from the dark blonde hair with the golden streaks to the tanned skin, unnatural for somebody with such pure English lineage as herself. The nose was hers. The eyebrows were her father's. The eyes had the same smart glint mixed with the bronze, and his whole complexion lit up with a disconcerting aura of wit, the way hers had when she was his age.

Where was his father in that little being?

"Yes, dear?" she prompted, faking a yawn. He bit his lip – gods, even that was hers – and entered the room, warily. She knit her eyebrows together in worry when he stayed by the door, staring at his shoes. "Darling, what is the matter?" she tried again, softer.

He looked up, and stared blankly at her for a minute or two. And then he puffed out his chest cockily, and a smile broke into his face. She almost screamed with relief. There it was. There was his father, hidden in the corner of his mouth, a mouth that looked like hers, but became his whenever that smile came trough.

"I came to see you're okay, mother." the boy stated in a tone that indicated she should have known something so obvious "I had been sleeping soundly in my quarters when I was woken by a sudden noise outside. I thought you'd be scared to be here all alone in this enormous chamber, therefore came by to see if my assistance was needed."

She smiled amusedly at him, shaking her head at his behavior. He was a sneaky little creature, with a knack to twist the situations around in his favor. Sometimes he really astounded her with his sense of independency and his irreducible pride. He was smart, and treated matters with a wariness and logic that was unconceivable for kids so young. She honestly didn't know where that had come from. She hadn't been _that_ cunning at his age.

She could see, though. The shadow of fear behind that adorable crooked smile, and the typical haunted look given by a terribly vivid nightmare. He was such a mature child, that she often forgot he was still just a child.

She could have told him she was okay. She could have told him that it was just a bad dream. She could have told him to go back to his quarters.

But what good would that have done either of them?

So she opened her arms, and said in an upset tone:

"Oh, dear, mother had an awfully scary dream. Would you, please, stay here tonight?"

She didn't miss the look of pure relief that crossed his face, before he pulled the brave one again and ran to the bed, jumping on it and snuggling to his mother's side. She smiled and kissed the top of his head, pulling the covers over him. He rested his head on her shoulder, and sighed contently. Within minutes his breath evened, and she realized he was asleep, his mouth was open in an 'O' shape, giving him the look of a much younger child. Her heart filled with tenderness for that little creature. He was her son, and she loved him dearly. She truly didn't know what she'd do without him. He always brightened her days with his pranking the village, the pompousness of his speech or even the astonishing remarks on conclusions he's made about people and the world in general. He filled the blanks, killed the spare time. He was a true gift from the gods. A true gift from…

She smiled lovingly at the sleeping child, and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Thank you, Ben."

Elizabeth Turner looked out at the sea outside her window, and for once in ten years, she didn't resent it.

"Thank you…" she breathed out to the empty room. "…Will".

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It's a dark, cold night, where the stars shine brightly, and the wind blows furiously. There aren't clouds in the sky, but the big round moon glows in silver, giving an eerily look to all things under her. She is especially beautiful tonight, and shines with the joy of a woman who twirls around in front of the mirror, amused by the drapery of her new dress. She looks down at the sea and snorts snobbishly. You see, the moon heavily disapproves of the sea. She thinks it too messy and temperamental. She'd rather flirt with the sun whenever they cross each other in their comings and goings. Terribly charming that one, and rather predictable. The moon appreciates punctuality and routines. She is not one for big shows, she doesn't throw tantrums. She stays up, and quiet, and unaware of the running planet under her. She never did enjoy the ways of the world. So she twirls in front of her mirror, and remains oblivious to these mundane matters that silly sea likes to watch so much.

But if only the moon had looked down, she would have seen the matters being run on that boat, were not entirely mundane.

It's silent in the deck, and the only man who dares to be out there in such a freezing weather is the same man who dared to do so many other things he was bound to be searched for in each one of the five oceans. It's late, awfully late, and he really shouldn't be there at this moment. His first mate had warned him of a possible impending doom, but he didn't pay much heed. That one was an incredibly superstitious man, and the man figured he could, sometimes, _exaggerate _a little bit.

He should have know that as superstitions tend to go, he was about to be damned by another one.

"Twist to the right, twist to the left…" he mumbled to himself, while twisting circles of an old and stained map. Letters formed between the two bigger circles. Letters that didn't mean anything. Or anything he was interested in, at least. He growled, slamming his fist on the wooden map. "This is hopeless." He mumbled to himself.

"Jack…"

He stopped, frozen in place. Had somebody just talked to him? No, all the man were hiding below deck for some reason only Gibbs understood. He looked around, and sure enough, nobody was there. He shrugged and grabbed the half-empty bottle of rum on the table, taking it to his lips, ready to drink it.

"It's impolite to ignore people, Jack."

The voice seemed slightly familiar to him. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Hadn't he already talked to invisible voices before? He lifted the dusty bottle to eye-level, and scrunched his eyebrows together in annoyance.

"You used to be more comprehensive, mate."

A chuckle resounded in the chill of the night. A chuckle he was sure he knew. A chuckle that made the hairs in his arms stand up. Where had he heard a chuckle like that before?

"Turn around, Jack."

He did. Slowly. And to say he wasn't expecting what he found was an understatement. His eyebrows shot up, and he almost punched himself to be sure he hadn't passed out drinking again. He pinched his arm, instead. No. Definitely awake. His pinches hurt like a bitch in real life. He prided himself in being a perfectly capable pincher. It was a skill to be envied, really.

"William!" he greeted surprised, rubbing his still hurting arm.

"Jack." The man before him said, amusedly.

"You are…" he started, looking at the other in search for words. "…Taller."

Will smirked, and approached slowly, stopping a foot from Captain Jack. He gulped.

"I came to warn you."

"Well, that is a very nice thing to do, for mates watch each other's backs, and I would hope you are my mate, old chap. We are mates, right?" he asked with a fake worried look.

"Jack." Will cut him off, with a dangerous edge to his voice. "You're messing with things you shouldn't." Jack opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He frowned for a second, and then smiled.

"Well, I'm always messing with things I shouldn't, therefore, one would expect me to do something I shouldn't, so if one would expect me to do it, it would be only rude not to correspond one's expectations. So doing something I shouldn't, I would be doing something I should." He finished with a mischievous smile. Will grinned and shook his head.

"I'll be more than happy to tell you 'I told you so' in the end, Jack." He stated, with a definite tone.

Will turned around to leave, but stopped mid-way, and turned back.

"I had almost forgotten." He opened an all-knowing immortal grin, one that was almost _wicked_. "Be sure to send Elizabeth my love."

"I will." Jack promised in a smiling and confident tone. Will smiled once more and disappeared right before his eyes.

Captain Jack Sparrow fell back on the table, where the map laid forgotten. Sure, he would send Will's lovely wife his _love. _He snorted. As if. The hand he was using to lean on the table slipped suddenly, flying across the wood and catching one of the circles in the old charts, twisting it accidentally. He cursed out loud and got up, standing in front of the wretched map.

His eyes widened.

'_Over the edge…'_

It couldn't be.

'…_And over again.'_

Will's sardonic laughter echoed through the empty deck, sending a shiver down his spine.

"How did you know, you little…" he mumbled, befuddled. His answered came whispered, as if the owner was standing right beside him.

"The dead speak, Jack, if only you learn to listen."

'_And again… And again… And again.'_

_**Over the Edge and Over Again.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**N/A: And we're back! Terry is finally not grounded anymore, so yeah. Here it is, chapter 2. I hope you like it!**

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"_I watch the green field growing_

_For reaping folk and sowing,_

_For harvest time and mowing_

_A sleepy world of streams…"_

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**Over The Edge**

**Chapter 2**

"Gibbs!"

Mr. Gibbs had been busy the whole morning. Day. Month, actually. Yes, he'd been busy the whole month. His captain had been scrutinizing those wretched charts since that damned night in which he had predicted another impeding doom heading the Pearl's way. Ever since that fateful night, Captain Jack Sparrow had been being an extremely jumpy creature, calling his first mate every five minute to check on the course of the boat, and was becoming quite the mumbler, being know as prone to start muttering under his breath things such as "She's going to kill me" or other times "I am positively dead. Again."

Honestly, Mr. Gibbs didn't know what in the lord's name had possessed Captain Jack.

"Aye Cap'n." The old man answered, glancing wearily at his captain's dangerously swaying torso, half-way out of the boat's balustrade as he looked into a telescope.

"Prepare anchors, Mr. Gibbs" he pulled the instrument back, grinning wickedly.

"We've arrived?" Gibbs asked, surprised.

"Yes… Indeed." His first mate didn't react for a second. Jack sighed, annoyed. "What is it, Gibbs?"

"You know… Captain…" he started, nervously, twisting the hem of his vest.

"What?"

"I mean… She's not going to be pleased to see you." Both stayed in silence for a minute.

"Well… I am to believe that I have enough experience with the ladies to be able to appease her fury, haven't I?"

His first mates's snort of disbelief wasn't what he had been hoping for.

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"Cap'n, are ya sure this is the right way?"

"Absolutely!"

"But, Cap'n, this is the third time we've passed that tree!" Jack spun around suddenly, making Mr. Gibbs almost bump into him.

"Certainly not, Mr. Gibbs, if we had passed that tree more than once I would have positively noticed the second time we did. All trees look alike, all tall, and brown, and leafy. How could you possibly know the difference between two trees?"

"Jack, I marked them."

"…What makes you think we are the only men in the island who need to mark trees?"

"Jack!"

"Oh, trust me, Gibbs, we're on the right path!"

"No you're not." Cut a different voice in the middle of the conversation.

Both men stopped stock still, the first much more abruptly than the other, therefore, causing the latter's nose to collide with his back.

"What was that, Jack?" Jack looked down at his first mate.

"T'wasn't you?" Mr. Gibbs shook his head furiously.

"D'you think it is some sort of spirit of the forest?" the other frowned.

"I don't care who he is, as long as he doesn't get the rum."

"Down here, idiots."

Jack and Gibbs looked down slowly, only to come face to face with a short little blonde creature staring at them with his arms crossed and an exasperated expression.

"What is that, Gibbs?" Jack whispered with his nose turned in annoyance.

"I think it's a boy, Cap'n." the older muttered back. Jack looked at the child in front of them and whispered again.

"Are you positive it's not a midget?"

"I'm not a midget!" the kid yelled, stomping his foot on the ground.

"Alright, mate, you're not a midget." He said smiling, inclining his torso to look into the short kids's eyes. "And since you're, it appears, a very young child, you'd do well to return to the caring arms of your mommy and leave Uncle Jack to his business." He finished, standing straight and turning around to go.

"Are you a pirate?"

"Whoever told you that?" he asked, partly surprised, partly annoyed by the boy who kept following them.

"Nobody. I just think you are."

"Well, I'm not."

"But you look like one."

"Really?"

"Yes. So are you a pirate?"

"No."

"I think you're lying."

"Oh, yes?"

"Yes. I think you're a pirate. Are you a pirate?" Jack stopped and turned to the boy with an eyebrow lifted.

"What do you know about pirates, kid?"

"I'm not a kid!" he whined. Jack huffed and rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Your constant need to state you are not a child only demonstrates how much of a child you actually are, but whatever makes you sleep at night… What's your name, lad?"

"Ben." He spit out angrily.

"Alright, what do you know about pirates, Ben?"

"Well…" he started embarrassedly "Officially nothing. Just what my mom mumbles when she thinks I'm not listening. And all she ever says is that pirates are…"

"Charming?" Jack suggested with a cheeky grin.

"Rude." Ben said as-a-matter-of-factly "And deceiving," he added "and dangerous, and treacherous, and barbarian…"

"Right," Jack cut him with an already slipping smile "Anything better at all?" Ben thought for a second, and then said doubtfully.

"Loud?" Jack frowned.

"Alright, you tell your dear old mother that pirates are actually very gentlemanly. For example, I could have killed you five minutes ago just for the simple fact that you were standing over there in my way when I arrived, but I didn't." he finished with a cocky grin. Ben smirked.

"So you ARE a pirate."

"…"

"The kid's good, Jack." Gibbs whispered in his ear.

"Apparently." He mumbled, crankily. "Here's what we'll do, Gibbs, you go that way, and I'll keep going forwards, and you see if you find anything that looks human-made. And then try to find me."

"Aye!" he cried, and then left in the direction Jack had pointed.

"By the way, my mother is not old. She is actually very young, and a lot of people say she is really beautiful." Ben pointed, to what Jack rolled his eyes.

"That's what she says." They stayed in silence for a second, staring at Gibb's disappearing silhouette.

"You know, he's going in the wrong direction." Ben sang non-chalantly.

"As if you'd know, kid." Jack mumbled.

"I happen to live here, sir, and you don't. I can get you either to civilization or to the middle of nowhere" the boy said, smirking "I think you ought to start respecting me more, sir."

Jack narrowed his eyes at the kid's nerve. Benjamin, he had said? The boy was smart. Smarter then short little round-faced boys like him should be. He had mentioned a mother, sooner. Well, he'd like to meet the mother to raise such a child. An interesting character she must be. Jack wondered off-handedly if she looked anywhere close to the leviathan, or if she would be more to the Davy Jones side. Either way, he followed the path ahead, hoping to finally find a track that would take him to the village, and maybe get far enough that the kid would leave him alone. Jack should have known that he would have no such luck.

Ben, Jack found out soon enough, wasn't a silent type. On the contrary, Benjamin wouldn't stop talking even for a second. He would have admired his ability to breathe in between words and keep going non-stop, had he not been the one stuck listening. In the ten minutes the boy had walked after him, he had told his whole life story, half a dozen of pranks he had pulled and rambled about the other children's general stupidity. Ben, apparently, couldn't understand the concept of some people being more intellectually privileged than others, and the fact that he had to deal with people whose brains resembled a tuna's frustrated him to the limit. Had he not been getting a migraine from the young boy's chattering, Jack would have sympathized immensely with his cause. Jack could recall having met tunas with deeper thoughts than some humans he knew. To his misfortune, though, Ben not only was fond of talking, but was very keen of asking.

"Do you have a boat?"

"Yep."

"What's it called?"

"What does it matter?"

"You see if a pirate is good enough by the name of his boat. If yours happen to have a very lousy name, I would stop talking to you."

"I hope you realize how tempting that sounds, lad." Jack mumbled, stopping for a second to look between two trees that led to two different paths. "What do you think, mate?" he asked absent-mindedly. Ben smirked.

"So now you're asking me directions?" the older man stopped still for a second, opened his mouth and then closed again. And then he pulled a half-empty bottle of his clothes.

"I was talking to the rum."

"Sure." Ben said, smiling cockily, and passing in front of him, to follow the path on the right. "By the way… You didn't answer me."

"What was the question?"

"What's your boat's name?" Jack huffed in annoyance.

"Look, lad, aren't you too young to talk to strangers?"

"Not really." Ben shrugged. "I'm eleven."

"And that's mature." The other mocked.

"You're avoiding my question. Why are you avoiding my question? Is it because you have a really lousy boat… Or is it because you're afraid I'll run to the navy and tell them about you?"

This boy, Jack decided, was too smart for his own good. Way too smart for his own good.

"Mate. Leave me alone." Ben ignored him and kept walking.

"I wouldn't tell you on to the navy, you see, I'm in trouble with the navy too."

"What did you do, kid? Sneezed in the commodore's uniform?" he asked, rolling his eyes, but to his surprise, Ben looked sheepish.

"Well… It was an accident really. I hadn't been aiming for the boat. And how could I know that cannon actually worked?" Jack stopped, and pulled him back by the shoulder.

"You wrecked a navy boat?"

"With their own cannon." He said, looking proud for a second, before remembering he was supposed to feel ashamed for it. "Terrible accident, for sure."

Jack didn't know quite why, but he was starting to like this kid.

That was when Gibbs arrived, red-faced and panting like a fish out of water, spilling words human ears couldn't possibly understand. Jack stared at him with an expressionless face until he finally caught his breath and told him decently that he had looked around and the only thing he had managed to find was the same beach they had arrived at. Ben had looked smugger than ever, and made a point to notice that "he had told him so". Both older men glanced at the strange boy eavesdropping on their conversation, and stepped further from him, talking in hushed voices.

"You didn't find _anything_?" Jack pushed, despairing at the thought of having to walk any longer with the kid-who-wouldn't-shut-up.

"There's nothing that way!" Ben shouted, trying to get in the middle of them.

"Not a living soul." Gibbs answered, shaking his head. Both turned around to leave Ben out.

"I told you!" the boy kept saying, walking around them.

"Please tell me you're joking." Jack begged.

"It's the other way!" Ben supplied, and then stopped.

They had turned around again. They weren't even listening. His lower lip jutted out in sadness. He could be as clever as he was, but he was just eleven, and these people were being _mean _to him.

"Only pure green virgin nature. She hides well, Jack, I think, this is a lost cause." Gibbs said finally.

"No cause is lost if there is but one fool to fight for it!" Ben yelled, upset, and then spun around, walking in the other direction.

Both men stopped stock still. They had heard that before. They had _definitely_ heard that before. They looked at each other for a second, before rushing back towards the boy.

"Ken, come back here."

"It's Ben!" he cried, still stomping his way back home.

"My bad. Ben. What were you saying about lost causes and dumbasses?"

"Fools." He corrected. "No cause is lost if there is but one fool to fight for it." he repeated, still upset.

"Well, that's a pretty phrase, lad, where'd you hear it?"

"My mother says it all the time." He said slowly, looking at them suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?" Gibbs and Jack looked at each other for a second, and then started mumbling out excuses.

"Why, no reason."

"No, it's just nice…"

"It's a pretty quote."

"Yes, deep, indeed." They grinned tensely at him. Ben studied both for a second, and then re-started walking.

"Wait!" the two cried, pulling him back.

"You know, mate, we could use a guide right now."

"I thought you had said to leave you alone." He said, crossing his arms in defiance.

"We were kidding, of course."

"Kidding?" he said, skeptic.

"Why, of course! Work with us, mate." Jack said, offering his hand. The boy looked at it with suspicion, then looked at the man again.

"And you'll tell me the name of your boat?"

"Is that all you think about?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"I want to know!" he cried childishly.

"Right! I'll tell you!" he promised. "If you show us to the village. Deal?"

Ben hesitated a bit, but finally shook his hand. Jack smirked. The kid was smart, but so was he.

"Good doing business with you, Mister…?"

"Ben." The boy said obviously. Jack huffed.

"Ben what?"

"What do you mean Ben what? I'm Ben, Ben!"

"I meant what's your full name, mate! Your father's last name! What your mother calls you when she's mad!"

"Benjamin." He said pausedly. Jack and Gibbs leaned forward in expectation. Ben hesitated a little more, but finally said it. "Turner. Benjamin William Turner."

Jack looked at Gibbs with the most wicked smile, and the older man couldn't help but get the feeling that they were about to do something really dangerous. He crossed himself thrice, and sent a silent prayer to the gods that he was going to survive this one. He looked at the boy in front of them. Now that he had said it, he really was his mother's spitting image, he wondered how he had not noticed before.

"Will you tell what your boat's name is now?" Jack turned his grin towards the boy.

"I call him Pearl. Black Pearl."

The boy's eyes lit up in recognition, and for a second he looked torn between being scared and delighted. He decided on serious. Benjamin Turner looked up at the pirate in front of him and said defiantly.

"My mother will not be happy to see you, Jack Sparrow."

"Captain Jack Sparrow, mate." Jack corrected. "And about your mother, why don't you take us to her so we can find out?" the boy thought for a second, and then said sheepishly.

"I'm still in trouble with the navy."

"That's why you were hiding in the woods?" he asked, and Ben nodded sadly. "Well, you can't hide from women forever, mate. Especially if this woman's your mother." And then he added as an afterthought "Especially if your mother is Elizabeth Turner."

The boy looked up at Jack with the look of a person who was picking out the flowers for his coffin.

"My mother is _definitely_ not going to be happy to see you."

Mr. Gibbs wondered what exactly Elizabeth Turner had turned into after ten years. Jack Sparrow decided that Elizabeth Turner was very much more to the Davy Jones side.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys, we just entered our summer break, so we'll probably be putting this up much faster. This chapter is short, but it's funny. The next will come up quicker. Believe me, Lils has been annoying me to death to write it. Hope you enjoy it!**

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"_I am tired of tears and laughter,_

_And men that laugh and weep_

_Of what may come hereafter_

_To men that sow to reap"_

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**Over The Edge**

**Chapter 3**

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Elizabeth Turner thought that her glamorous days as a member of the Queen's court were over the moment she had picked up a sword from the floor and swatted it right in the middle of a navy official's forehead. She was happy as it was. She might not have the twenty seven dresses sewed in gold that she once had in her closet, she may not have one different necklace per each day of the month, and she had forgotten the last time she had danced in a ballroom among dukes and counts she could never remember the name, but it had all seemed so long ago after everything that happened that it was easy to forget she was once a part of it all. However, her forgetting of them never meant exactly their forgetting of her. Elizabeth sat in her cottage by the sea's sitting room, leaning comfortably against her velvety chaise lounge, smiling amusedly at the letter in her hands. The Duke of Norfolk had sent her the most outrageous love letter. He had been very passionate, indeed, praising her adorable _silver_ eyes that glowed like the moonlight, and her dark _mahogany_ hair that put the reddest rose to shame. He had also managed to admire her delicate pale complexion, and compare it to the finest chinese porcelain. How so very embarrassing to the Duke, he had sent her a love letter praising someone else's features!

Part of her had meant to return the letter and note that he had miswritten the addressee, but she didn't have the heart to do it. She had had so much fun with his scandalous words that she decided to answer it, making clear just how amusing it had been, and gracefully reminding him she was a married lady.

Even if her husband happened to be a collector of souls lost at sea that could only come home for twenty four hours once in every ten years.

She scratched her chin with the quill for a moment, and then proceeded to think of a terrific way her loving husband could have made her a widow. It was just easier to explain it this way.

Just as she was putting the finishing touches in Will's tragic and unexpected accident with a shotgun and a wild southern duck, her son burst into the room with his clothes and hair in disarray, mud on his boots and a guilty expression. She knew that look like the back of her hand. Aside from the cocky smirk that seemed to be Ben's current favorite facial expression, that was the one that seemed to appear with more frequency. Maybe more than it should, really.

"Ben!" she cried, surprised, dropping the letter to the floor. "Where have you been? Look at your clothes! Look at your hair, my son!" she berated, rushing 'till him and trying to wipe off the sand and leaves from his face.

"Mom! Mom, I'm sorry!" he said with the most regretful expression in the world. She stopped whacking his head for a moment and looked at him with a mixture of worry, wariness and just a little bit of a threat.

"Ben." She said in a warning tone.

"It was an accident! I didn't mean it! Don't let them take me!" she fell on the couch beside him to look him in the eye.

"What happened? Let who take you?" Ben frowned confusedly.

"You mean they haven't been…" he stopped and opened his mouth in an 'O' shape. "Nothing. Forget it." He said quickly and tried to walk out of the room. His mother was faster though, and grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

"Benjamin William Turner, what did you do this time?"

"Nothing, mom! I swear!" she pulled him closer by his elbow, pointing a finger to his nose.

"Do you swear on your dearest mother's life?" he swallowed nervously.

"Well…" that second's hesitation told him on.

"That's it! Benjamin, just what did you do that somebody's coming to get you? Did you break into Mr. Sparks' bakery again? Or was it the stolen book from the book store? For the last time, Ben, you have to _pay_ for things, that's what I give you money for! Or… Maybe you put another bucket of cold water on top of Mrs. Jenkins' door, Bennie! How many times will I have to say to leave the poor hag alone? She's already bad enough as it is!"

"I didn't do anything to them, mom!" he mumbled indignantly.

"To them." She marked. "To who was it then, Ben, and what?" he sighed dejectedly.

"You will never let me off the hook will you?" she smiled sweetly.

"When you look at the sky and see our pigs and cows flying, dear."

Ben opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the sound of knocking from the front door. Elizabeth huffed exasperatedly and yelled for the maid to open the door. Nobody answered. The knocking continued. She cursed her employee's lack of competence and marched 'till the window, pulling the curtains open to see who knocked. There were two men standing outside, with white wigs and triangular hats, dressed in navy blue uniform…

Navy blue? _Navy _blue?

"You messed with the navy?" she screeched in a whisper to Ben, who winced at his mother's accusation.

"It was an accident!"

"My Gods, Benjamin, just what exactly did you _do?_"

"Well… You see…"

More knocking.

"Benjamin William Turner, you are already in trouble for the rest of the century, you might as well tell me now so I can save your sorry bum from those idiots in wigs!" she threatened. He broke down.

"I'm so sorry, mom, I was playing and I climbed up the walls of the fort, and there were these cannons and they looked so nice, and I just started playing because they looked so old and rusty and there was _no_ how to tell that they worked, and I just got carried away, I picked up a rock from the floor and…"

"You did not…" she started, almost shaking with rage and worry.

"I didn't know it was aiming the boat! I didn't even know it worked! It was an accident, mom! I didn't mean it!" she huffed.

"You never mean it, Benjamin." She crossed her arms and sighed, frustrated, trying to think of a way out of the situation her trouble magnet son had managed to yet again throw himself into. "Go change, Ben. And bathe. Look presentable. And do it quickly!" she hissed, and rushed 'till the nearest mirror.

Elizabeth checked her reflection. She was well into her thirties, but she was still young, and she figured it might still work. She ran her fingers through her hair, fixing it, and pulled her dress down, lowering the neckline a little _too much._ She stared at her chest for a second and then thought idly 'Well, if that doesn't work it'll be a kick in my ego's gut.' She ran to the door, where the knocking was progressively turning into pounding, and with a deep breath, placed a charming smile on her face and opened the door.

'Lord, they're even uglier up close.' Was her first thought the moment her eyes met the navy officials in her doorway, and even so her smile did not waver.

"May I help you, gentlemen?" she breathed out pleasantly, putting more sugar in her voice then the amount she put in her tea.

"Errrr…" ugly on the right choked, and coughed to try and disguise his wavering. "I do believe, ma'am… That we have… Ahm… The wrong house." He coughed again. She lifted one eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"You would not happen to be… Errr… Benjamin Turner's mother, would you ma'am?" ugly on the left said, stuttering. In his defense, he did try to keep his eyes on her face.

Elizabeth mentally smirked. Oh, if only the Duke of Norfolk would have heard those two, he would have never written that letter thinking of another woman. She really ought to introduce the three of them. She would love to see what Will would say about such assemblage. And about his accident with the wild southern duck. She would _love_ to see what he would think of the southern duck.

"Why, yes I am!" she said, sounding worried and surprised.

Both men exchanged a wary look, before turning back to her.

"Well, you see, ma'am, your son is in a bit of a situation."

"A situation?" she asked, scrunching her eyebrows together.

"Yes… Well…" the first ugly tugged at his collar.

"Yes…?" she encouraged. The second ugly coughed and tried to pull his act together.

"You see, madam, your son was spotted on the walls of the fort this morning, the same instant one of the cannons was fired. Said cannon's projectile happened to be aiming on one of our finest boats. He is suspected of being the responsible."

"My son?" Elizabeth exclaimed, taking her hand to her heart and opening her mouth in shock. And then she snorted in an offended way. "You believe _my _son would perform such an act of villainy towards our prided navy?" she huffed. "I assure my son did not do such a thing!"

"Ma'am…" ugly on the right started nervously. "Your son was seen by at least ten people who swore it was…"

"Oh, that's precious." She laughed humorlessly. "Let me guess just who these people were. Mr. Baker from the fabric store, Mrs. Jenkins, the old lady that lives downtown, Miss Barbara Wright…" she guessed. The navy officials looked at each other.

"These have been some of the names, indeed, ma'am…" he admitted.

Elizabeth could not believe her luck.

"Well, let me tell you something, sir. These people absolutely loathe us, for the simple fact that we are not from this town. They have treated us wrongly from the moment we stepped in the island. Why, I was only a girl, what could I have done to them?" she ranted dramatically, leaning closer to the men in a confidential tone. "They would have said anything to harm my son and I, those cruel creatures…" and then snickered. "My son is eleven years old, sir, he can barely tie his own shoes, imagine firing a cannon! No, no, that is a tough job. A job for fine, strong men, such as you two." She smiled flirtatiously.

Both men started coughing madly.

"Uh… I see, ma'am. But we'd like to speak to your son anyway. Would you happen to know where he is?"

"Why, of course I do!" she exclaimed, smiling. "He's been home the whole day, you see, improving his reading skills. It's unbelievable how little boys have trouble sitting quietly to read a good book is it not? Would you like to come in?"

The officials couldn't have possibly been redder. They mumbled unintelligible words and followed her into the house. Elizabeth prayed to every single god she knew that Ben had been his usual annoyingly nosy self and had been listening behind the door. She yelled for him to _pause his reading _and to come meet her in the sitting room. She could only hope he used all the intelligence that got him in trouble to get out of it this time.

"Would you care for some tea, officials?" she offered. They shook their heads in negative, and just as she opened her mouth to try and start a conversation, Ben showed up at the door, in clean clothes, with his hair combed and a book in hand.

"You called, mother?" he said with the little bit of politeness she had taught him.

"There he is!" she exclaimed, trying to keep relief from flooding her voice. Her son managed to look surprised and curious at the sight of the navy officials.

"Is there something wrong, mother?" he asked hesitantly.

"Young man," the first ugly started "You have been accused of shooting a cannon ball into one of the navy ships."

To his credit, Ben managed to look shocked.

"Me, sir? I would never do such a thing!"

"See? I told you." Elizabeth defended. "He's a good boy, I taught him right."

"Mr. Turner, where were you this morning?" Ben blushed. For a second Elizabeth was worried. And then he mumbled sheepishly.

"I was sleeping, sir." he turned to his mother with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, mom, I know you told me to wake up early and study, but I really didn't want to. Forgive me!"

Benjamin Turner, Elizabeth decided, was the most deceiving little creature to ever walk the earth.

"Ben…" she reprimanded. "You know you are not allowed to sleep until noon."

"I'm sorry mom, but I had a nightmare last night, and I couldn't sleep again and…"

"Benjamin, that is no excuse…"

The navy officials watched their argument for a while, and then seemed to decide that Mrs. Turner had been right and those people had been meaning to hurt them. Besides, Mrs. Turner seemed like a very strict mother. They figured a kid to grow with such a parent could never fire a cannon ball into a navy ship. He actually looked very scrawny; he could never have climbed those walls. And after a few seconds the situation seemed completely ridiculous. It obviously couldn't have been the boy. How could they have ever believed those people?

Obviously, the men didn't know Benjamin Turner well. Because Benjamin Turner was a very dangerous little boy.

"We can see the situation here, ma'am."

"It is quite obvious that it couldn't have been Mr. Turner who fired the cannon."

"We shall be going now."

Elizabeth thanked them and walked them until the door, assuring them they had only been doing their job, and how greatly they did it, making the men blush to the roots of their hairs. She closed the door still with the plastered smile she had directed them the whole time. And then her face contorted into a very angry one, and she ran until the sitting room.

"Benjamin William Turner, you are into so much trouble you have no idea…"

She stopped mid rant, because there, standing beside her son, was a man she had believed dead or lost at sea long ago. Someone who she had never thought she would see again. A man she hoped she never _had _to see again.

Standing there in the middle of her sitting room, beside her son and her horrified maid, was Jack Sparrow.

Elizabeth put her hands on her hips and managed to look even angrier than before.

"Jack Sparrow."

"Captain!" he added. "Captain Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth darling."

"What in the Lord's name are you doing here?" she asked furiously.

Jack stared at her for a second and then grinned.

"Will sends his love."


End file.
